Human Eyes
by Laura Schiller
Summary: There are many ways for a soul to "go native". Some of the best ones involve the trust of a child.


Human Eyes

By Laura Schiller

Crossover: _The Host/Les Miserables_

Copyright: Stephenie Meyer/Public Domain

The soul formerly known as Bears Heavy Burdens, now called Jean Valjean, was on his way home with a load of groceries when he first met the child. She was so small and quick on her feet, he almost didn't notice when she snatched a loaf of bread out of one of his shopping bags and tried to run.

He caught her by the arm.

"You know," he said, "If you're hungry, all you need to do is ask. It's not polite to steal."

The little girl tried to pull free, and looked up at him with terrified blue eyes in the light of the street lamp … terrified blue eyes with no silver ring around them.

How did a feral human survive on the streets of Paris for so long?

"Please let me go, monsieur," she sobbed. "Please don't put a worm inside of me. I don't want to forget who I am. I don't want to forget Maman."

He had never considered the insertion process in that light before.

In any case, Bears Heavy Burdens had always been a solitary soul. His first life had been on the Ice Planet, carrying cargo between cities on a sled hitched to his back, not speaking to anyone for weeks on end. He minded his own business.

He did, however, take one last look at the child. She was healthy and clean, and if her T-shirt and jeans were a few sizes large and her shoes secondhand, what did that matter? Wild human or not, her mother obviously looked after her. That was all that mattered.

"It's all right," he said. "You can go. Since you're hungry, take these. And don't let the Seekers catch you."

He handed her his groceries. She stared at them as if she couldn't believe her luck.

"Thank you," she squeaked, and disappeared down an alleyway before he could say another word.

/

Jean expected to never see the child again. Wild humans avoided souls at all costs. He was oddly disappointed; he would have liked to find out how she was doing.

The last thing he expected, however, was to find that same little girl pounding on his door in the middle of the night.

As a Healer-in-training, this wasn't the first time he'd been suddenly woken to take care of an emergency. He rolled out of bed, jammed his feet into his sneakers and slung on a coat over his pajamas before his brain could catch up.

"What's going on?" he said, stumbling to the door.

"Please, come quick!" The blue-eyed human girl grabbed his hand. "You're a doctor, right? I've seen you. Maman is dying! Help her, please!"

Her high-pitched, desperate voice sliced through him like a scalpel. He didn't stop to think.

"Let me get my medkit," he said. "And I'll come with you."

As they raced through the nighttime streets, keeping to the shadows, avoiding cars and pedestrians like the proverbial plague, it occurred to Jean to wonder what a more experienced soul would have known at once.

 _You're a doctor, right? I've seen you._ This little girl had been spying on him. Was it just her, or was there a whole network of humans out there? Was he walking into a trap?

Possibly. But if he ignored a cry for help, he didn't deserve to call himself a soul, let alone a Healer.

She led him down a staircase into what looked like an abandoned basement, then into an underground corridor. She took a flashlight out of her pocket and shone it in front of her; the darkness was so thick, it seemed to swallow the light.

Jean began to wish he'd left a message with his friends, just so they would know what had happened to him if this really was a trap.

They came out of the narrow passage into a room that felt larger, at least in comparison. But by the sound of breathing, and by the way the girl's flashlight glinted off something metal, he knew they weren't alone.

Several clicking sounds surrounded him, sounds he had only ever heard in human movies.

An electric lightbulb switched on. They were surrounded by teenagers with guns.

"Don't shoot!" the little girl cried, spreading her arms to shield him. "He's a doctor! He's gonna save Maman!"

"Yeah, by putting a centipede in her." A young man with curly black hair and hostile eyes tried to nudge her aside with the barrel of his gun. "Nice job, Cosette. You just killed us all."

"Leave her alone," said a younger boy with freckles and spiky hair. "She's trying to help."

"She's an idiot, Marius, and so are you," said a dark-haired girl wearing a newsboy cap. "Just shoot him and get it over with, before he brings the Seekers down on us."

Arguments erupted, everyone shouting over each other, while Jean stood with his hands in the air and wondered if he was about to see humans at their worst. His host had some pretty terrible memories, of growing up on the street and spending his adult life in and out of jail. He thought he knew what fear was. It was quite a different thing to actually see the faces of people who wanted to kill you.

The little girl – Cosette – trembled in front of him. She was crying. He placed tentative hands on her shoulders in an attempt to calm her down.

 _Crack._

A bullet embedded itself in the ceiling, producing instant silence.

It came from the gun of a tall blond man who wore a red jacket, and had the most perfect face Jean had ever seen on a human. He stepped forward, shouldering the gun, and shot a cold, commanding look at everybody in turn.

"We are not murderers," he said in a cool, quiet voice that carried into every corner of the room. "I refuse to prove the aliens right about us. I say we let him do his work - ". The curly-haired man let out an indignant sound. " _But,_ we watch him every second. Best-case scenario: he saves Fantine, and we get ourselves a qualified physician. Worst-case scenario: he tries to betray us or run away, and _then_ we kill him."

He said this like one of Jean's supervisors at the Healing facility, talking about a new shipment of medicines, perfectly casual.

The humans relaxed, as if this sounded like a sensible idea.

"What do you say, Monsieur Alien?" said the man in the red jacket, strolling up to him and looking him square in the face over Cosette's head. "We spare you, and you work for us. You refuse, and your life is over. Do we have a deal?"

Jean looked down at Cosette, and thought about her dying mother. Guns or no guns, his choice felt clear.

He remembered enough about human customs to hold out his hand to shake.

"My name is Jean," he said.

Someone in the crowd scoffed at that, but he doubted his soul name would have gone over any better.

"Mine is Enjolras. Follow me, and I'll show you to your patient."

Cosette clung to Jean's hand as they followed Enjolras along another underground passage. This time, no one tried to stop her.

They came to a tiny room, lit by a single flickering lightbulb, with two mattresses on the floor. Stacks of books surrounded one of them: romance, fantasy, science fiction, children's books, anything that would allow their owner to escape her life. The other mattress held a doll in a blue Victorian gown.

The patient, Fantine, was thinner than any human ought to be. Her cheeks were flushed and her brown eyes glazed with fever. She tossed and turned, delirious, muttering to herself. The only intelligible word was her daughter's name.

"Maman!" Cosette rushed to kneel beside her. "Maman, it's okay. I brought help."

She looked up at Jean with pleading eyes.

He examined her carefully, doing his best to ignore Enjolras and the gun looming behind him, and the rest of the humans waiting outside.

He was only in training, but he could see clearly what the problem was, and soul medicine was highly efficient. He opened his medkit and pulled out vials of Cool, for the fever, Inside Clean to kill the virus, and Soothe for her cough.

In a few minutes, she was resting peacefully, with a small smile on her face.

Half an hour, or several hours, later – Jean and Cosette hadn't moved from the bedside, and neither had Enjolras mounting guard beside the door – Fantine's eyes fluttered open.

She took a deep breath, then another, as if amazed at how easy it was. She glanced around for her daughter, and slumped against her pillow in relief when Cosette smiled down at her and squeezed her hand.

Then she saw the big, stern-faced man with the silver eyes sitting beside Cosette, and froze.

"Don't be frightened, ma petite," she whispered, "But there appears to be an alien behind you. I'm still feverish, aren't I?"

"Uh-oh," said Cosette, like a child caught out in mischief. "Yeah, Maman, about that … it's kind of a long story."


End file.
